


from jupiter to saturn

by honeywaves



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, overuse of the word pretty because beomgyu is pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywaves/pseuds/honeywaves
Summary: He's nice.Beomgyu is nice—he heard that many times, from his classmates, his friends, and now, his best friend. But Yeonjun never bothered asking what they meant, even if the curiosity lingered at the back of his head.Is he nice in a way that leaves Yeonjun wondering if he's been missing out on all the times he purposely stepped over the opportunities to talk to him? Is he nice in a way that leaves Yeonjun so speechless that he couldn't say anything else—he's nice. Sweet and nice.Nice had never been enough to say who someone is.(Or: this is how Yeonjun falls in love with Beomgyu—season by season.)
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 26
Kudos: 126
Collections: TXT Secret Santa Fic Fest 2020





	from jupiter to saturn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prodbeomgyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodbeomgyu/gifts).



> first of all, i wanted to say thank you for this prompt! i had a lot of fun crafting every scene in this fic and i carefully chose the title for this too. i got the little inspiration from [this article](https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/2020/12/see-rare-great-conjunction-of-jupiter-saturn-on-winter-solstice) and hopefully, once you read through the fic, you'll realize the reason why i picked that one out specifically. ♡
> 
> i hope you have fun reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

**prologue.**

Yeonjun can't keep his eyes off of him.

The lights hanging from the ceiling are flickering from blue to red then blue once again. The flickering lights cast a shadow on Beomgyu's features and even then, Yeonjun can't seem to find it in himself to look away. It's as if he's drawn to him—like he's entranced at the way the lights made his eyes brighter.

Even when Yeonjun is sitting far away from him, he can see the specks of starlight in his eyes as Beomgyu sings. He's laughing again and Yeonjun finds himself falling through his memories of Beomgyu's fingers grasping his own. He remembers the nights in Beomgyu's bedroom—them laughing and holding a makeshift microphone made out of cardboard. Them singing and dancing like there's no one else around that could ever hear the two boys. 

Yeonjun has almost forgotten how amazing Beomgyu sounds like when he's consumed by the music. His voice is golden, honey dripping at the corner and god, words would never be enough to describe how enthralled Yeonjun is by his presence alone.

Maybe it's because he's been away for so long. Or maybe because he had forgotten how pretty Beomgyu looked under the lights—how the shadows seem to make everything about him look so much brighter.

(Beomgyu is so pretty, isn't he? 

Has he always been this pretty?) 

"Hyung," His voice comes out breathless and Yeonjun feels that tightness in his chest when Beomgyu walks to him. It's as if the world has fallen still and all he could see right now is Beomgyu and how his dark hair falls over his eyes and oh, how pretty his laugh sounds like—

"Hyung?" Yeonjun's thoughts fall into silence as Beomgyu leans in close. He can sense that Beomgyu had too much to drink tonight—his cheeks are flushed and he looks like he's going to stumble right into Yeonjun's arms. But somehow, he steadies himself and leans in even more, a hand on the headrest of the couch as he stares down at Yeonjun.

"Are you okay?" 

"I am," _I should be asking you that question, Gyu-yah,_ "I'm okay."

"Good." There's a flicker of a smile on his lips and for a fraction of a second, Yeonjun feels his breath hitch at how little distance left there is right between their bodies. If he wanted, he could have tilted his head and kissed him, felt his lips against his like he always wondered for so many years.

But Beomgyu is pulling away now and Yeonjun's courage is once again spiraling to the ground. Crushing it right beneath his heel, like he always does.

As Beomgyu turns his back to him, Yeonjun remembers how he's the one who did that. The first one to turn his back, the first one to pull away as Beomgyu reached out desperately to grasp his fingers for even the slightest touch.

Yeonjun releases a breath that he didn't realize that he's holding. The ache in his chest settles there—like a worn out lullaby that he used to love years and years before. He had forgotten the lyrics but somehow, he knows that he loves every second.

 _Not tonight,_ Yeonjun stares at him from behind before he quietly lets his gaze fall on something else. Anything else but on Beomgyu.

_Not tonight._

**summer.**

It's the first day of summer. 

Eating ice cream on the curb of the sidewalk as the sunlight pours itself onto the lines of the street. Ocean air in the lungs, running under the blanket of the pink skies. The day stretching itself so thin that anyone would see the line where the day ended and the night has begun.

Yeonjun has been waiting for this day. A little calendar sits on his desk, pages of the days ripped off. There's a bright red circle right around the start of summer. He wanted to run through the beach, feel the sand in between his toes and taste the ocean air on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to lay down on the ruined sandcastles he built for himself and watch the blanket of stars across the night sky. 

It was supposed to be the day. 

It was supposed to be _his_ day. 

But instead, he sits under the shade of the bus stop near his house, lips twisted into a scowl. 

"What?" 

Soobin looks nervous. Shifting from one foot to another, eyes darting around the nearly empty street as if he's waiting for someone. He can't seem to care enough about how Yeonjun looks absolutely in disbelief at the abrupt change of plans.

"Beomgyu wanted me to invite you to his party." 

"I don't even know him." 

_A lie._

He knows who Beomgyu is. Two years younger than him, a little too loud. Carries his guitar that he bought six months ago and clumsily plays the notes out on the benches during lunch.

Yeonjun isn't _that_ fond of him. 

"Why don't you ask someone else?"

"Because," Soobin runs a hand through his dark strands, frustration written across the lines of his features. "He specifically asked for _you."_

And that's how Yeonjun watched the bright red circle on his calendar get marked out with a bright red _X_ instead. 

As much as he didn't want to go, Soobin never stopped asking him. He even stumbled on the front porch of Yeonjun's house on that day, rosy cheeks and a sweet smile written across his lips and asked _his mother_ if she would be willing to let Yeonjun join a party with him today. 

"Why not?" She stands in front of the stove, only glancing over her shoulder to give the two boys a smile, "You should go to the party, Yeonjun. Maybe you and Beomgyu will _finally_ be friends." 

Yeonjun ignores the way she puts more emphasis on the word _finally._ As if she's been waiting for the start of whatever this is. 

Of course, his mother would never say no—she's friends with Beomgyu's mother. A pair of childhood friends that grew up on the same street and eventually, they grew out of it and stumbled right back into each other's paths years later, on the same street that they once lived in. Maybe they've thought that Yeonjun and Beomgyu would be like that too—bright-eyed childhood friends that would see the world like how they once did. 

Yeonjun begs to disagree though. He has nothing in common with Beomgyu, after all. 

"Come on, Beomgyu has a pool in his backyard. You have to come!" 

Okay, maybe they _do_ have something in common. 

Yeonjun heaves a sigh, the word _fine_ struggling to sink its nails around his throat. It's terrible how Soobin knows him well enough that he knows what to say to rope Yeonjun into his mischief at times. But it's even more terrible how easy it is for Yeonjun to crumble, as if one word from his best friend _is_ enough. 

It's the first day of summer and Yeonjun finds himself a little breathless with rosy cheeks as he stares at the front porch of Beomgyu's house. He doesn't know why he's nervous. He has seen him for so many times in school already. He passed by his house too many times that he could count—each time, he finds himself staring at the white concrete walls and the black door, wondering what will happen if he knocks on it. 

Now, he doesn't have to wonder anymore. 

"I think you'll like Beomgyu," There's a certain glint in Soobin's eyes that makes Yeonjun wonder what he meant. "He's nice." The words stay in the space between them as Soobin walks up the driveway, all the way to the front porch. As if he has done it so many times. It makes Yeonjun wonder how close they really are. 

_He's nice._ Beomgyu is nice—he heard that many times, from his classmates, his friends, and now, his best friend. But Yeonjun never bothered asking what they meant, even if the curiosity lingered at the back of his head. 

Is he nice in a way that leaves Yeonjun wondering if he's been missing out on all the times he purposely stepped over the opportunities to talk to him? Is he nice in a way that leaves Yeonjun so speechless that he couldn't say anything else—he's nice. Sweet and nice. 

Nice had never been enough to say who someone is. 

Yeonjun doesn't think too much of it though. He only focuses on the way the sunlight glistens on his skin as he follows Soobin all the way to the backyard. He hasn't seen Beomgyu yet and he doesn't know why the knot in his stomach hasn't untangled itself. It sinks further through his body as he finally steps out onto the backyard, seeing the glimmer of the pool reflecting the sunlight.

"Go on, hyung. Have some fun!" He feels a shove against his shoulder, causing him to stumble forward. The sun is so bright and Yeonjun is caught off guard at how many people there are—so many people that he knew and some that he didn't quite know well enough. But he knew that almost all of them knew who he was. 

Clenching his jaw, he levels his glare at Soobin over his shoulder. "What are you talking about? Aren't you supposed to be with me?" 

"Hyung, come on. You can do it." 

Soobin isn't even looking at him—his eyes are fixated on two of his classmates sitting by the edge of the pool. They're sitting side by side, their laughter etched on the atmosphere and Yeonjun catches only a glimpse of the smile on Soobin's lips before it fades away when he sees the curiosity cross his best friend's features. 

"Just go!" 

And that's the end of the conversation. Yeonjun watches bitterly as Soobin crosses the backyard, not even responding to some of the greetings half-heartedly thrown at him.

Yeonjun knows that he should be doing that too—he should be sinking right into the steps of the pool. Feel the water cascade through his body and let it wrap itself around his figure. But he keeps a secret buried in the spaces of his ribs—one that only Soobin knows.

As much as he loves going through the water, he can't swim. He only lets Soobin pull him along, fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist to make sure that Yeonjun wouldn't drown. But now that Soobin has taken a liking in talking to someone else right now, Yeonjun is left sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs already halfway buried in the water. 

"Stupid Soobin," He kicks at the water uselessly, watching the droplets splash away. "He invited me here and he left me right at the start of the party. I knew that this was a bad idea—" 

"I can teach you how to swim." 

Yeonjun swivels around so fast, his heart rising to his throat. He didn't recognize the voice immediately and it takes a heartbeat before he does realize who it belongs to. 

Beomgyu stands right behind him, bright-eyed with rosy cheeks. Yeonjun thinks that it's because of the sun—he looks flushed and happy. Yeonjun doesn't really understand why he looks happy right now. 

"What?" 

"I can teach you how to swim," Beomgyu repeats, unsure and hesitant this time. As if he's coming into the realization that maybe he made a mistake of opening his mouth. But instead, he shakes his head and settles right next to Yeonjun instead. "If you want me to teach you, I don't mind." 

Yeonjun scoffs. "And what makes you think that I need you to teach me how to swim?" 

Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders a little listlessly and stares out at the way the sun reflects itself on the water. "You've been here for the past eight minutes, talking to yourself. Most people would sink right into the pool and swim around." 

He doesn't like it. He doesn't like the words that spilled from Beomgyu's lips. That little kid always seems to know exactly the words to say to piss him off.

"I don't need anyone to teach me how to swim." He scowls as he grips the edge of the pool, slowly lowering himself into the water. "I know how to _swim."_ Yeonjun snaps at him, staring down at the water.

He knows for a fact that his feet can still land safely at the floor since it's shallow. But even then, he stops halfway and pulls himself out right after as he feels his heart hammering against his ribcage. 

Yeonjun doesn't like the sound of it. 

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, hyung! A lot of people don't know how to swim." 

"How many times do I have to tell you that I do know how to swim?" 

Yeonjun is lying through his teeth. He's not the world's greatest liar but he lied enough that he knows how to be convincing, even to himself. "I don't need to prove myself to you." 

"I'm not saying that!" Beomgyu looks taken aback and now, there's a flicker of fear on his features. Like he realized the gravity of the situation and there's a possibility that Yeonjun might just leave without a proper conversation between them. 

"I just want you to have fun today, hyung." 

Maybe it's the sadness in his tone. Or the sincerity written in his irises as he stares at Yeonjun. Either way, Yeonjun feels the guilt wrapping itself around his ribs, tangling itself around his lungs and heart. As he takes a breath, the answer falls so fast from his lips that he doesn't even realize that it happened until he has seen the way Beomgyu's eyes lit up. 

"Okay, I guess you can teach me." 

Yeonjun always had a tight grip on his pride. He feels the embarrassment coursing through his veins at the thought of an eleven year old boy teaching him, someone who's on the verge of becoming a teen, how to swim. But he discards the thought and tries to think that maybe he's doing Beomgyu a favor—he must be bored enough in his own party that he willingly chose to stick by Yeonjun's side for this afternoon. 

"Come here, hyung." 

He hesitates. He only watches as Beomgyu sinks into the water and waits for him to slip right into the pool as well.

"Are you okay?" 

"I am," Yeonjun snaps at him again, only to take it back when he sees the slight hurt that twisted on Beomgyu's features. "Sorry. Give me a moment." 

"Are you scared?" 

Of course he's scared. He's scared because Beomgyu is scrawny and smaller than him. Yeonjun is taller, bigger than him. If Yeonjun ever drowns, Beomgyu will have to haul his body right out of the water and onto the dry ground. 

The reason why Yeonjun trusts Soobin the most in teaching him how to swim is because there's that reassurance that Soobin can save him any time. He did it once—out in the ocean, near the shore. A summer ago yet it feels like it only happened yesterday. 

Yeonjun felt the air leave his lungs and the ocean water was overwhelming—he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and everything inside of him hurts every time he tried to push himself right out of the current. The only reason why he got out of there alive was because Soobin acted fast and he carried him out onto the shore. Made sure that he was okay before Soobin eventually broke down in tears because he was so worried. 

Yeonjun didn't like the ocean after that. 

He thinks that his fear is valid. It's okay to be afraid—that's what he likes to think for himself. It's okay to be afraid because everyone is afraid of one thing or another. 

Drowning just happens to be Yeonjun's worst fear. 

"I'll be here, don't worry." 

Maybe it's the reassuring tone in Beomgyu's voice. Or maybe it's the way his bright eyes are filled with so much hope that Yeonjun would believe his words that Yeonjun does find himself believing in him. 

"Okay," He takes a deep breath and he catches the smile on Beomgyu's lips. It's pretty. "Okay." 

Yeonjun is almost thirteen and Beomgyu is eleven. 

Yet Yeonjun has never felt so close to someone before. Not in a way that Beomgyu makes him feel. 

(Yeonjun comes home that day, sunburnt cheeks and a smile that left him with his cheeks aching. 

"So, how was your day with Beomgyu today?" It's just a passing question from his mother as she notices Yeonjun's still wet strands that are leaving droplets of water everywhere. He crosses the threshold of the living room before he finds his voice. 

"It was nice," Yeonjun stops for a moment, his fingers wrapped around the railing of the staircase. He wants to say more but instead, he only winds up saying, "Beomgyu is nice." 

His eyes have caught the light of the afternoon sun and there's something that's different about him that day. Like something shifted, something that's a little out of place. 

Yeonjun doesn't quite notice it but he's brighter now. Almost as bright as Beomgyu.) 

* * *

"Hey, hyung. Do you want to check out that new café that opened up? I heard they have this amazing dessert—" 

"Can't, sorry." 

"Yeonjun! Do you want to head over to the arcade with us—" 

"Sorry, I have plans!" 

"Yeonjun, do you want to—" 

"I can't," Yeonjun takes a breath. Ignores the knot in his chest, trying to familiarize himself with the feeling that's been with him for the past weeks now. "I have something to do. Next time?" 

Yeonjun didn't imagine that this is how his summers would have gone. He always imagined himself sitting on the curb of the sidewalk with his friends, eating ice cream cones and laughing. He always thought of the summers when his friends taught him how to skateboard and how they would take the risk to ride down the road where a car could pass by. He imagined adrenaline-filled days and loud nights, hazy summer days that would have strung themselves into a line of polaroids and stolen shots. 

But ever since that one summer day, he finds himself drifting closer to Beomgyu. 

Beomgyu always finds something for them to do—climb that one tree in the park near Yeonjun's house. Create makeshift microphones out of cardboard pieces and sing at the top of their lungs as they stand on Beomgyu's bed. Beomgyu always sings—whether he's holding that cardboard microphone or his guitar that his father bought him, he always sings. Yeonjun dances to whatever song he sings and he thinks this is why they're perfect together. 

They fit each other so well. In a way that no one else could ever do. 

Beomgyu can rope him into little competitions and Yeonjun has never once said no. Play video games for hours sitting on the floor with half-eaten chips sitting on their laps. Spend their hours together in the arcade, arguing over who will win in the crane machine. 

(Beomgyu always wins. Yeonjun says the machine is rigged every time and Beomgyu only laughs as he presses the little stuffed toy keychain in Yeonjun's palm. 

"I won it for you, hyung." 

There are four stuffed toy keychains hanging on the zipper of Yeonjun's bag. He never wants to take them off.) 

He doesn't realize how close they are. Even when Soobin pointed it out in the beginning of everything.

"I didn't know that you and Beomgyu are so close." 

"We aren't." Yeonjun says on the third day of summer, when he's _finally_ feeling the pain of the sunburn on his cheeks. He stares at the still red tint that colored itself in his skin. It hurts and Yeonjun can't take his eyes away from how flushed his cheeks are at that moment. 

"You are." Soobin laughs and once again, Yeonjun notices the knowing glint in his eyes. "You'd never let anyone teach you how to swim and yet, Beomgyu convinced you to trust him enough to let him do that."

It takes everything in Yeonjun to ignore the surge of feelings that settled in his chest. Soobin is right, as much as he hates to admit it. Yeonjun would only scowl and leave if someone were to drift through his emotions and thoughts like that. 

Yeonjun thinks that he's nice enough for everyone to think that they can come up to him and talk to him like they've been friends for so long. But he never liked it when people start to act like they do know him as well as Soobin does. 

He should have been angrier when Beomgyu unraveled a part of him so easily like that. But instead, he only found himself laughing with him, only holding onto his shoulder to make sure that he won't slip off. 

"We're not close friends."

_We might as well be on the way to that though._

But he wouldn't admit that out loud. He's got a tight grip on his pride, after all. 

* * *

Yeonjun is almost fourteen now and Beomgyu is twelve. 

He always thought that Beomgyu was a summer that he would leave behind him. But instead, that summer followed him through the hallways in the school, when Beomgyu stumbled into the entrance of his classroom with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he waved at him.

"Yeonjun hyung!" 

That summer continued to follow him out on the benches, hauling up a guitar so he could play a song that Yeonjun loved. He remembers how Beomgyu's fingers have become calloused and rough and yet, he loves the feeling when they're wrapped around his wrist. Always pulling on it, asking him to _stay, can you please listen to another song, hyung? I practiced this last night and I want to hear what you think about it._

That summer ran after him on the last day of their classes, fingers grasping his shirt as he smiled at Yeonjun with a light in his eyes that made Yeonjun's chest ache in a way that he didn't understand. 

"Do you want to come to my party tomorrow, hyung?" 

And the word _yes_ is nothing but a familiarity that Yeonjun had grown to love. 

He thinks that the summer will always linger there, always waiting for him to notice the light. The light is so nice—one that Yeonjun had grown so fond of. 

(For how long did the light wait for him? Yeonjun doesn't know. 

But now that he finally noticed it, he couldn't take his attention away from it.)

* * *

It's three days before summer is ending. 

Yeonjun doesn't like familiarizing himself with the feeling of the nervousness sinking right through his stomach whenever he sees the terrible _X_ marked on his calendar. The day he finally sees the last sunset, the last taste of summer on his ice cream. The last time he'll feel the warmth of the sun on his skin before it eventually fades all away. 

Yeonjun never liked that feeling. 

And Beomgyu finally caught onto his thoughts three summers after they first talked. 

It's three hours before midnight and the knocking on his window is incessant. Yeonjun knows exactly who would risk being out this late, without a care in this world. He staggers out of his bed, his white shirt bunched up and wrinkled as he stares as another pebble sails through the roof and hits the glass. 

Yeonjun heaves out a sigh, almost tripping over his own feet as he pushes the window open. The summer night is still warm but even then, it still leaves him with his arms wrapped around his figure as he stares down at the street. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Yeonjun hissed through his teeth. "Are you stupid?" 

"Come on! I have something to show you!" Beomgyu is dressed in a grey hoodie and Yeonjun is so sure that he stole it right out of Yeonjun's closet. It looks oversized on him and right now, he looks tinier than Yeonjun is used to seeing him. 

Yeonjun chooses not to let his thoughts catch up to him, letting them crumble beneath his heel. "It's nine in the evening, Gyu-yah. Go home." 

"It won't take long, I promise!" 

He lets out a shaky breath. Quiets down the sound of his heart crashing against his ribcage. He knows that Beomgyu would never hear it but that doesn't mean that he likes the sound of it. 

"Fine." 

It's supposed to be warm but the moment Yeonjun slipped into a dark blue hoodie and stepped right out of his house, the sting of the cold air sinks its teeth on his skin. The cold doesn't last long though—not when Beomgyu is standing in front of him now, cheeks flushed with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

_How pretty._

"I have something to show you." 

Yeonjun doesn't have much of a choice because the moment he felt Beomgyu's fingers around his wrist, he's already stumbling through the front porch and out into the street. It's empty and Yeonjun can hear the sound of their footsteps resonating through the atmosphere. 

"Slow down! Where are we going?" 

"Why do you keep asking me questions? Don't ruin the surprise, Yeonjun-ah." 

Yeonjun scowls hard at that. Beomgyu does risk glancing over his shoulder, smiling as he holds Yeonjun's hand instead. "Sorry, I meant _hyung."_

(Yeonjun likes to think that he's more caught off guard by how easy it is for Beomgyu to crumble when it comes to him. He's not supposed to feel like his heart is about to spill through his chest the moment he felt Beomgyu's ice cold fingers around his palm.)

There's an ache in his legs and Yeonjun can feel the cold air sinking its teeth once again on his body the further they go down the path. Beomgyu is still holding his hand, as if he didn't realize what he's doing and Yeonjun is afraid that once he says anything else, he'll lose his warmth. With that, he lets Beomgyu's fingers slip halfway through the spaces of his fingers, forcing himself to ignore how well they fit together like this. 

"Gyu-yah, where are we going—" 

The ocean air. Yeonjun feels it through his lungs and it becomes colder than before. He shuts his eyes, ignores the knot in his stomach that tells him to turn around and go back home. 

"The beach." 

The words don't fit so well in Yeonjun's mouth. Like jagged edges that leave him wincing in pain when they drag themselves against the inside of his cheeks. 

Yeonjun used to like the beach. When the summer air made everything hazy and Yeonjun could feel the warm sand between his toes. The thing is, he never once went there without Soobin. Right now, it's night and the boy whose hand that's barely holding his is a boy that he only met summers and summers ago. 

The fear is back and it wraps itself tightly around his bones. A lingering ache that Yeonjun had almost forgotten. 

"Close your eyes, hyung." 

"What?" 

"Just do it." The warmth leaves him and he buries the disappointment that surged through his chest. No use in dwelling in that feeling. 

Yeonjun never learned how to say _no_ to him—he only runs around the question but in the end, the word _yes_ has felt so familiar to him that he says it to him without thinking twice. He lets his eyes flutter shut and surrenders himself to whatever Beomgyu wants to do. 

He trusts Beomgyu, doesn't he? 

"I'm right here, hyung." 

There's a grasp of fingers on his hoodie, pulling him along. He tries not to think about this is how Beomgyu used to do to him when he feels like Yeonjun is drifting away. Pulling him back, telling him to _stay, please stay._

(He doesn't know that Yeonjun would do it in a heartbeat, even if he didn't ask.) 

They walk together—with Beomgyu talking to him, in hopes of easing his nerves. He can feel the way Beomgyu's fingers wrinkling the edge of his hoodie, as if he's the one who's more nervous. Yeonjun is so distracted by his voice that he doesn't even realize that the rough sidewalk has drifted into the cold sand. 

The end of Beomgyu's story catches onto a thread before he speaks again, his voice shaky yet excited. "You can open your eyes now." 

And when Yeonjun does that, he feels everything crash in him. 

The night sky is so pretty—it stretches out beyond what he could see with stars painting themselves across the blank canvas. It reminds him of the stars that he drew on the palms of his hands, the ones that leave a faint line of mark on his skin. But this is so much brighter, so much prettier. 

"It's nice, isn't it?" 

Yeonjun never liked the word _nice._ He feels like it's never enough—like it's on the verge of saying the words that are left unsaid. But right now, the words are stuck in his throat and it finds himself only saying, "Yeah, it's nice." 

He casts a glance at Beomgyu, who's staring at him with a softened look. Their eyes meet and Yeonjun wonders if this is how the starlight looks like. 

Yeonjun used to wonder why everyone says that Beomgyu is nice. But now, maybe he finally realizes what they meant. 

Beomgyu is nice—he's nice in a way that he's unforgivingly loud and unafraid to be himself. He's nice in a way that his name lingers on anyone's lips and every syllable that stretches itself out sounds so pretty. He's nice in a way that Yeonjun knows that he did miss out on so many opportunities when he let Beomgyu pass by him before in the hallways without saying hello to him. 

Now, he can't imagine living his days without hearing Beomgyu's loud laughter etching the walls. He's not sure if he can go on a second without thinking of him and how much he loved seeing him smile. He loves it even more when he knows that he's the reason why Beomgyu is happy. 

He takes in a deep breath, ignores the ache in his chest. 

It's better this way, anyway. 

Yeonjun is on the verge of being fifteen and Beomgyu is thirteen.

It's the day when something shifts again. 

Yeonjun is just not sure what that is. 

**fall.**

"Do you like Beomgyu?" 

Yeonjun pauses from walking, hearing the distinct crunch of the leaves beneath his shoes. It's a cold autumn day and his cheeks are flushed—the tips of his fingers are shaking as he hides them in the pockets of his coat. 

"What?" 

Soobin only shrugs. As if he didn't ask the question that made everything in Yeonjun's world shift out of focus. 

"Do you like Beomgyu, hyung?" 

"Of course I like him," The answer sounds sharp and he can feel the way the words drag harshly against the inside of his cheeks. It stings but he doesn't say anything else about it. "He's my friend." 

Soobin laughs. Eyes crinkling at the corners—like how Beomgyu does when he smiles hard, to the point that his cheeks are aching. 

God, why is he thinking of that right now? 

"You know that's not what I meant, hyung." 

"I really don't know what you meant with that."

Of course he knows—it's a question that lingers at the tip of his tongue. It's in the space between him and Beomgyu when they're sitting side by side on the bus, their knees knocking against each other. It tangles itself around the strings of Beomgyu's guitar when he's playing the notes of an unfinished song, one that he's been writing and rewriting for weeks now. 

But Yeonjun doesn't want to think about it. 

He's got a tight grip around his pride, after all. 

"I like him as a friend," He swallows thickly. Ignores the ache in his chest, like what he's been doing for years now. A familiarity that he had never grown to love. 

"That's all." 

* * *

Of course, that isn't the last time he'll hear the question. 

He hears it in his head every time he sits across Beomgyu out in the benches, when he hears his laugh right in between the notes of his guitar. It echoes loudly through his bones when Beomgyu would stumble and end up stepping too close to him, when their ice cold fingers would brush against each other. 

(He hears it louder than before when Beomgyu holds his hand. Fingers lacing, pulling him back just so they could fall into step. 

It's getting harder to ignore the ache in his chest.) 

But he hears it the loudest when he sees the flicker in Beomgyu's eyes. The subtle brush of fingers, the knowing glint in his eyes—it leaves Yeonjun with his breath stuck in his throat. It leaves him with the question resonating in his head. 

"Does Beomgyu like me back?" 

He doesn't understand why he thinks that way—he doesn't like him. 

_I don't like him,_ Yeonjun quietly thinks to himself when he hears the familiar melody of Beomgyu's laugh. It's warm and bright and leaves Yeonjun wishing that it's summer again. 

_I don't like him._

Yeonjun likes to think that maybe if you say something over and over again, it might become the truth. But why does it feel like a lie every time he says those words to himself? 

* * *

There's a letter again. 

Yeonjun shouldn't be surprised—he gets one every single day. It's either clumsily spilled through the small opening of his locker or tucked neatly in between his books. He always lets his fingers graze along the rough outline of the letters and wonder who would spend their time writing pretty words to him. 

He's not sure if he deserves hearing those pretty words from someone else. 

"Another letter?" 

Beomgyu is right behind him, looking even more starry-eyed than usual. There's something about the way he keeps on shifting from one foot to another. As if he's waiting for something to happen. 

Yeonjun only casts a strange look at him before gently retrieving the envelope neatly tucked in between his books. "Yeah, another one." 

"Are you not going to read it?" 

Beomgyu is acting differently today. Teeth sinking on his lower lip, fingers gripping his guitar case harder than they should. His knuckles have turned white but he doesn't seem to notice it—his eyes are fixated on Yeonjun. 

_Waiting._

"I will," Yeonjun feels the rough outline of the letters written across the back of the envelope. He traces the outline of his name—Choi Yeonjun. 

Only his name and nothing else. 

Somehow, there's a sinking feeling in his stomach that leaves him breathless with cheeks more flushed than ever. 

"I'll read it tonight." 

And that's the end of the conversation.

They fall back into step as Beomgyu tells him about his classes. Yeonjun only slips the letter into the open space of his backpack, clumsily letting it sit at the bottom. Not quite caring what happens to it. 

He doesn't notice the longing gaze that Beomgyu gives him. The way he takes his lower lip between his teeth as he tears his eyes away from him, only to show him a small smile before he gazes at his shoes instead. 

Yeonjun doesn't let himself think too much about it. 

(As soon as he steps inside his room that night, he takes the letter out of his backpack. The blue envelope is a little crumpled now and he can barely feel the engraved outline of his name on the back of the letter. It's still there though—the small outline of _Choi Yeonjun_ leaves him with his heart rising to his throat. 

Taking a deep breath, he shakily pulls on the drawer and puts the letter delicately on top of all the other unopened ones. 

He feels like he doesn't deserve to read someone's pretty words to him yet.) 

* * *

"Did you read it, hyung?" 

"What?" Yeonjun stops shifting through his notebooks, giving a glance over his shoulder. Beomgyu stands there with hopeful eyes and a nervous smile. He doesn't notice those little details though. 

"No, not yet. Why?" 

"Oh," The smile falls away from Beomgyu's lips. The slight disappointment painted across his pretty features. 

(Yeonjun doesn't like that—he never liked seeing him upset.) 

"It's nothing. Just let me know once you do read it." 

Yeonjun thinks the conversation will finally end. But instead, the question trails him every single day after that. 

"Hyung, did you read the letter?" 

And the response remains the same, as always. 

"Not yet. I'll do it tonight." 

Soon, Beomgyu stops asking. A little too tired, a little too disappointed with the constant answer. It's not the answer that he seems to be looking for but Yeonjun is distracted. He never notices those little details. 

The question stays in the spaces between the days they spend together that Yeonjun knows what to say now. The answer dangles from the tip of his tongue, always waiting to be said out loud. Just in case. 

"Not yet. I'll do it tonight." 

Yeonjun doesn't realize that Beomgyu has stopped asking since a long time ago. 

* * *

There's another question that lingers though. It never stops following him, like how the summer that he finally talked to Beomgyu tugged on the back of his uniform and told him to slow down. 

This question is buried along with the remnants of his other thoughts in the graveyard of his chest. He thinks that it has finally stopped too—maybe this time, he'll be at peace. 

Instead, it resurfaces in the worst time there is. 

No, that's not right—there's no worst time for this. It's never a bad time either. It's only the dread that ties itself around the question, the quiet _oh no_ when he does realize what's happening.

_"Do you like Beomgyu?"_

He finally hears that question for the last time when he's in the convenience store with him. It's two weeks after his birthday and Beomgyu has been strangely more affectionate to him more than ever. Maybe it's because he still feels guilty that he forgot about Yeonjun's birthday. 

(Yeonjun says that it's okay—that it doesn't matter, anyway. 

He doesn't say that he waited for Beomgyu to at least call him and say _happy birthday, hyung_ for almost the entire day. Even a text would have been fine, really. But those two things only came at one in the morning. Two days after his birthday. 

_Belated happy birthday, hyung! I'm so sorry that I didn't get to greet you two days ago. I was really busy._

Yeonjun tells him that it's fine. He doesn't tell him that he felt an ache in his chest when he realized that Beomgyu forgot about him. 

He's got a tight grip on his pride, after all.) 

It's cold—the air conditioning inside is broken and Yeonjun is supposed to feel the slightest relief after spending the day outside, where the cold has tightly wrapped itself around his body. Instead, his fingers are shaking and even keeping them in the confines of his hoodie is not helping him. 

"I don't want to go home yet," Beomgyu sighs, gently leaning against Yeonjun's side. "I have so much work to do once I get home." 

Yeonjun laughs. "Is that why you begged me to walk with you today? Because you know that I take the longest route to get home?" 

"You get it," Beomgyu tugs on the string of his Yeonjun's hoodie, forcing the corners of the older boy's mouth to curve into a frown. He only smiles back at him though, eyes crinkling at the corners, like they always do when he's really happy. 

Beomgyu always smiles like that when they're together. Yeonjun likes to think he only looks at him like that. 

"If I treat you to something, would you let me walk home with you?" 

"I'm taking the bus today." Yeonjun replies rather nonchalantly. He knows what his answer will always be but either way, he likes to leave Beomgyu circling around his own arguments every once in a while. 

"And we still have a _long_ way to walk from the bus stop to our houses." 

"You think that I'd walk with you? You live in the opposite direction when we get off at the bus stop. This would have been easier if you didn't move to another street last year." 

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, lips curving upwards to resemble a smile. "That didn't stop you from walking me home before." 

Yeonjun feels the rush of heat to his cheeks. It lingers there, leaving a tint of red on his skin but he doesn't say anything else. He only breaks away from Beomgyu's warmth and tilts his head at the other aisles. 

"Just go and buy our snacks before I change my mind." 

Beomgyu knows that he always wins. Yeonjun doesn't mind it though—he likes it when he sees the way Beongyu's eyes light up because of him. Even if the reason is undeniably ridiculous. 

It's three minutes later when Beomgyu crashes into him again, holding up a plastic bag. When Yeonjun catches a glimpse of what he bought, he stares at the younger boy with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Seriously?" 

"What?" Beomgyu takes out one of the little popsicles, pressing the cold treat in Yeonjun's palm. "Desserts like this are perfect for the cold weather." 

"You're going to get sick if you eat something cold in this kind of weather." Yeonjun sighs but even that didn't stop him from tearing open the packaging of the cold treat. He doesn't even have to turn around to see that Beomgyu is clearly satisfied at the thought of how easy it is for Yeonjun to crumble when it comes to him. 

Beomgyu grips the back of his hoodie as they stumble outside, the cold air sinking its teeth back on their skin. Yeonjun lets him stay like that—fingers gripping him from the back, quietly telling him to slow down. 

(He tries not to think about how Beomgyu is asking him to stay sometimes. He's not sure if Beomgyu even realizes that Yeonjun will never leave him behind.)

Yeonjun's head is riddled with thoughts of Beomgyu's warmth and how it's overwhelming—he knows that Beomgyu doesn't mean to do that. He doesn't even know the kind of effect he has on Yeonjun. Eyes constantly unraveling every hidden part of Yeonjun but years and years later, he's still grasping on the strings, trying to see how he can pull on them without breaking the thread. 

He's a mystery to someone like Beomgyu. Or at least, he thinks that he's a mystery. 

"Are you not going to eat that? I bought that for you." 

Yeonjun casts a glance at the popsicle that's slowly melting. God, he really needs to get out of his own head sometimes—he's getting too distracted lately. 

"I'll eat it," His voice is rough around the edges but his words are soft. "You bought it for _me."_

"Exactly. Do you know how much I saved from my allowance just so I can treat you?" 

Yeonjun glances at him and hides a smile that almost drawed itself across his lips. "I feel like you'll bring this up from now on." 

"You know me so well, hyung." 

Yeonjun shouldn't feel that tug on his heartstrings. But the thought of being the one who knows Beomgyu like that—he can't help it. 

_Stupid._ He swallows the word, feels every letter wrap itself around his throat. He tucks away his heart that's on the verge of falling from his sleeve. A deep breath to settle the crash of his heart against his ribcage. 

No need to let Beomgyu hear that chaos inside of him. Beomgyu wouldn't understand, anyway. 

The bus is nearly empty when they find themselves falling back onto the seats, bags falling by their feet. He can feel Beomgyu shifting closely to him but he doesn't say anything else. He lets their arms brush but he doesn't reach out—it seems to be enough. 

This seems to be enough for them. 

"Hyung, can I ask you something?" 

"What is it?" 

"Do you think we'll forget each other one day?" 

Yeonjun looks at him and feels his heart fall still in his chest. The afternoon light is fading away fast—a little too fast that even Beomgyu's eyes seem to be dark. The sound of the wrapper crumpling in his fingers accompanies the sound of the hitch in Yeonjun's breath.

It starts like this: two best friends that have become entangled in each other's lives. One string that wrapped itself around their bodies, further typing them together that pulling them apart would hurt. 

Yeonjun can feel the string unraveling when he found out that Beomgyu was moving. _Just down to another street, it's not too far,_ Beomgyu once said to him when they're sitting on the front porch of the older boy's house, almost at the end of that summer day. _We can still visit each other._

"I'm not going to walk all the way to your house everyday." That's all that Yeonjun replied to him before he pushed himself off the concrete, walking back inside his own house. He didn't know why he was upset that Beomgyu was moving. He knew that it wouldn't be that far but still, he couldn't help but feel the string start to fall through his fingers. 

No matter how much he tried to hold onto it, he couldn't stop it from slowly unraveling itself. 

(The next day, when it was nearly dusk and the streetlights were starting to flicker to life, Beomgyu stood right in front of his best friend. Yeonjun with his rosy cheeks and his rough voice because _I ran all the way from my house and it was really far._

"Why?" 

That was all that Beomgyu asked. He didn't understand why Yeonjun would stop talking to him for almost a day then come running to his front door like this. 

Yeonjun paused at that. He took a breath and gripped the loose thread on his shirt. 

"I needed to see you," He whispered, his voice soft. "That's all."

 _Because I missed you._ He didn't say those words out loud though. 

As much as he wants to say that he has a tight grip on his pride, he could feel the tangled strings start to unravel. 

Slowly, slowly.)

 _No, of course not._ He wants to say those words out loud. But they sound heavy—as if they carry too many promises, too many stories that will never find their endings. 

With that, he breaks apart the words. Takes away every syllable, every letter until all that perfectly fits in his mouth is a three word story. 

"I hope not." 

Beomgyu lets out an uneasy breath and presses his body against the curved backrest of the seat. He looks like he has so many things to say. But instead, he only gives him a half-hearted smile at Yeonjun with the darkening afternoon light reflecting in his eyes.

"Yeah," He murmurs softly. "I hope not too." 

* * *

"You don't have to walk me home." 

"Didn't you beg me to do that?" 

"I did _not_ beg you." 

Even as Beomgyu narrows his eyes at him, Yeonjun can't help but emit a laugh at the frown written on the other boy's face. 

It's dusk now—colder and darker and yet, Yeonjun still feels the remnants of the warmth of Beomgyu's body pressed against his. Even as Beomgyu told him over and over again that it's fine, that he doesn't have to walk him home anymore, he naturally gravitated to Yeonjun's side. 

As if he's meant to stay there. 

"Fine, you didn't beg me to do this," Yeonjun sighs and reaches out to let their fingers brush just the slightest before he pulls away, voice soft as ever. 

"But you know that I'd do anything that you ask me to."

Yeonjun grasps on the space between them, holding himself from reaching out and letting their fingers tangle. He tightens his hold around the now empty wrapper of the cold treat, still tasting the strawberry flavored popsicle on the tip of his tongue. Beomgyu only lets his eyes drift over to him before a small smile draws itself on his lips. 

"Even when I tell you that I need your help in hiding a dead body?" 

Yeonjun laughs this time, finally feeling the emotions untangle themselves around his bones. " _Especially_ when you need my help in hiding a dead body." 

There's one thing that Yeonjun loves about Beomgyu—it's the way he never held himself back. He's the boy who would risk it all, jump in headfirst without seeing the consequences written on the lines of his palms. Says every word as if the roughest edge will never leave a cut against his cheek when he speaks of it out loud. 

Because for him, everything is worth it. 

But right now, he's quiet and he looks at Yeonjun as if there's an ache buried in his chest.

"What is it?" 

"What?" 

Yeonjun frowns at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay? You look like you want to say something." 

Beomgyu _does_ look like he wants to say something. But as his gaze falls on the older boy, he only shakes his head with a light chuckle. "Don't think too much about it, hyung. It's _nothing."_ The little emphasis on the last word leaves Yeonjun with his heart rising to his throat as he watches Beomgyu take a step forward. 

He rarely sees him like that; he's always the one who tugs on the back of Yeonjun's shirt. Quietly asking him to slow down and stay right by his side. Seeing him like this—glancing over his shoulder, eyes bright under the darkening skies as another laugh spills from his lips, Yeonjun wonders about everything. 

There's a theory that time moves differently for everyone. And right at this moment, Yeonjun feels his world shift to a pause. A quiet breath. One that almost feels like it's fleeting but it lays there, right in the middle of the space between them. 

Under the glow of the dusk, Beomgyu looks pretty like this. And Yeonjun never wants to do anything more than to capture this second and stay still for the rest of the time—him only a step away and Beomgyu looking over his shoulder with eyes crinkling and a familiar smile that causes a surge of emotions through Yeonjun's chest. 

_God,_ Yeonjun lets his eyes fall shut as he feels the wrapper crumple itself in the space of his palm and his fingers. It digs painfully against his skin but he doesn't say anything else. 

_What is wrong with me?_

"We're here, hyung." 

"What?" 

When Yeonjun glances at the house, he feels everything within him slowly start to collapse. The thread that he looped around his fingers was untangling itself so fast that he could no longer stop it from falling to the ground. 

Beomgyu gazes at him with starry eyes as he reaches out, finally letting their fingers fill the empty spaces of their hands. He feels warm, such a sharp contrast from the cold autumn night. 

"Thank you for walking me home, hyung. I know it sucks that we live far away from each other," Beomgyu breathes out a sigh, his thumb brushing the curves of Yeonjun's knuckles. "I just wanted to say that I'm really grateful that you still choose to walk with me everyday." 

"It's not that far," Yeonjun shrugs nonchalantly, his voice as light as ever. "Remember when I ran all the way from my house to yours?" 

Beomgyu rolls his eyes and heaves out another exasperated sigh. "I still don't understand why you did that." 

_Because I missed you._

It's been a year and Yeonjun still doesn't have the courage to say those words. He can feel the sharp edges pressed against his cheek and when he breathes out, something in him aches. 

He can't help but wonder what will happen if he said them out loud. 

Beomgyu is staring at him though, his expression softening. There's that pause that leaves Yeonjun breathless as Beomgyu stares at him for a heartbeat too long. When he breaks away and lets go of his hand, Yeonjun longs for his warmth all over again. 

"Get home safely, okay?" 

Beomgyu hesitates for a second before he shakes his head the slightest, smiling at the older boy with such tenderness that Yeonjun can feel something inside of him ache. 

When Beomgyu finally gets inside, Yeonjun stands there, his heart rising to his throat. There's something lodged in the corners of his ribs—all the unsaid words. All of the words that he ever wanted to say to him. 

As he walks back home, he hears the way the leaves crunch beneath his shoes. He thinks it helps for a moment to delay the thought that's almost there in his head. 

He knows what it is. But he doesn't know if he's quite ready to say those words out loud. 

When he finally comes home, he sinks to his knees and presses his back against his bedroom door. His cheeks are flushed and his hands won't stop shaking. His heart won't stop crashing against his chest too. 

A chaos. A riot that he had been waiting for. 

An explosion and all at once, it was nothing. 

Nothing but dread. 

_"Do you like Beomgyu?"_

Yeonjun closes his eyes. "Yes, I do. I like him so much." 

(It's the first time in a while that the word _yes_ has become an unfamiliarity to him.)

**winter.**

Yeonjun is seventeen when he realizes there's a vast difference between knowing the truth and admitting it to himself. 

He thinks that he already knew how much he liked Beomgyu before. It's a feeling that sinks right through the empty little spaces between the ribs whenever he hears Beomgyu's voice echo through the four walls of his bedroom. It's the thought that tangles itself at the corners of his head whenever Beomgyu laughs at one of their little conversations out on the benches. It's all the unsaid words whenever Yeonjun reaches out to him and tells him, _Gyu-yah, you did so well._

But the thought of finally realizing what he felt for him, it's different. It's the collision of emotions whenever he hears Beomgyu laugh and all he could ever think about is how much Beomgyu reminded him of every summer they had together and every fleeting thought of how he wanted to kiss him right there and then. 

The moment he realized all of that, he couldn't stop thinking about it. At all. 

He didn't _want_ to like Beomgyu. He didn't want to like the idea of kissing Beomgyu. He didn't want to like the idea of taking Beomgyu out on a date—hold his hand, tell him that he's so, so pretty. 

But he _does_ like him. 

He likes him so much that he feels the words spilling right through his ribcage whenever Beomgyu stays so close to him, his bright eyes always fixated on him. He likes him so much that he can no longer silence the sound of his heart crashing against his bones when Beomgyu lays his head on his shoulder as they sit on the bus, with the fading afternoon light pouring over them. 

Beomgyu is someone that he knows that he's going to love for so many days. 

He just doesn't know if someone like Beomgyu would look at him in the same way. 

* * *

It started with a letter. 

Encased into a pretty pink envelope, quietly sitting on Beomgyu's desk on a Tuesday morning. Yeonjun knows that day like the back of his hand—he remembers how he scolded Beomgyu, fingers brushing away the little snowflakes on his hair before he wrapped a scarf around his neck. 

"You're such an idiot," Yeonjun sighed, fixing the scarf around his neck. "It's been snowing for _days._ How can you think that it won't snow today? Look at what happened, you're shivering." 

"I'm not cold." Beomgyu murmured, the tips of his ears turning red. There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he raised his gaze, lips pursed. "You worry too much about me." 

"How can I _not_ worry about you? You're always getting into trouble."

"I am _not_ always getting into trouble." 

It was nearly seven in the morning and under the glow of the hallways' lights, Yeonjun saw how Beomgyu's eyes lit up in amusement. It was endearing to see Beomgyu like this—cheeks flushed with his oversized coat hanging on his shoulders. One that he borrowed from Yeonjun's closet two weeks ago because it was warm and Yeonjun couldn't stand the thought of Beomgyu walking out of his house that day with only a thin sweater. 

"You are." Yeonjun scoffed as he pushed past the doors to Beomgyu's classroom. "I wonder how you never got caught—" 

The rest of the words fell away as he gazed at the little blue envelope sitting on Beomgyu's desk. A pretty handwriting of his best friend's name was scrawled at the back, the black ink glistening under the morning light. 

Yeonjun didn't know why but everything felt like the world was shifting out of focus.

_Slowly, slowly._

"What's that?" 

Beomgyu hastily retrieved the envelope, slipping in between the pages of a notebook within his backpack. He looked a little on edge—teeth sinking on his lower lip, eyes casted down. "Just… another confession. Probably." 

"Probably?" 

"It might be nothing." 

Yeonjun stared at him for a heartbeat too long. Ignored the ache that lingered in the spaces of his ribs. "Does someone have a crush on you, Gyu?" 

"I don't know, maybe? I'm not interested." 

"Really?" 

Beomgyu hesitated, his bright eyes falling on Yeonjun. Quietly memorizing every feature, every emotion that passed through before he spoke, his voice soft as ever. 

"Really," He whispered, "I promise." 

* * *

It didn't stop there. 

More and more letters came. Sitting quietly on his desk on early Monday mornings. Slipped hastily through the small spaces of his locker, fluttering down to his feet whenever he opens it. 

Yeonjun always asks. The questions are strung along with every word in every letter written out for him. 

"Who is it from this time?" 

"Are you friends with them?" 

"Do you like them?" 

Beomgyu always laughs whenever he does ask the last question. "I don't, okay? I'm not interested in anyone." The last word stings—sinks its teeth on Yeonjun's throat, silencing every burst of courage in his chest whenever he wanted to say something. 

Something that goes along the lines of _Beomgyu, I like you. I like you so much. Do you like me too?_

It would have been easier to deal with his own feelings if the rest of the school didn't notice the shift in Beomgyu's features. Years ago, the two of them could have gone through the hallways without another student becoming rather wonderstruck at the sight of them. 

Yeonjun is the first one to steal everyone's attention. The golden boy, as he had been called over and over again. Top of his classes, incredibly attractive and gets along so well with everyone else. He has so much potential to be in the spotlight for the rest of his life. 

Beomgyu says that Yeonjun is made to be loved by the world. He's made for his name to be spoken like a song that everyone once loved in their lives. 

(But what he does not understand yet is that Yeonjun doesn't want anyone else. He only wants Beomgyu to look at him, to love him. 

He does not need the world to love him. He only needs Beomgyu to love him in the same way that he does.) 

Yeonjun thinks that he has everything that he ever wanted—he didn't need anything else. 

But there's always something missing. 

Beomgyu was his shadow. Ranked high enough to be considered as an honor student and was friends with almost everyone. But he always had been a step behind Yeonjun, reaching out constantly to make sure that Yeonjun wouldn't leave him. 

The day people started to notice Beomgyu more, the world started to shift its focus. Beomgyu had always been so pretty—so achingly bright that Yeonjun was afraid that he would burn if he kept him too close. The little light of his life. 

(Yeonjun didn't know the light before. But now, he can feel the absence of the light when he's alone.

He doesn't know what his life would be if he ever lost his light.)

Beomgyu had become so much prettier, so much brighter that people couldn't help but keep their eyes on him. The one boy who sat out on the benches playing half-written songs with his guitar left everyone chasing after him. Wanting him, slowly learning to love him. 

Like how Yeonjun had learned to love him over the years. 

With every step that everyone takes, Yeonjun feels like he's getting further apart. He didn't notice the space first—Beomgyu getting swept away with his new friends, his laughter echoing in the walls of his classroom and down the hallways. Yeonjun always lingers behind, waiting for Beomgyu to glance over his shoulder and see the way his eyes light up. 

Now, it's him that's chasing after his best friend. Fingers grasping the back of Beomgyu's uniform, asking him to stay. To slow down and realize that he's leaving him behind. 

That the space between them is making Yeonjun feel lonelier than ever. 

(Yeonjun didn't know what to do. The string is unraveling itself further and further and all he could do is watch the way it slowly pools itself around his feet. A little reminder of what he's letting go of right now. 

How do you tell someone that you feel like you've been left behind when they're only a handspan away from you?) 

* * *

"You know, I feel like I never see you anymore." 

"Says the one who's been chasing after the love of his life for the past two weeks." 

Yeonjun sighs at that, "He's _not_ the love of my life." The argument is weak but at least, he had the last word. But he does feel rather terrible at how he's been acting for the past weeks and so, he chases after the end of his words. 

"Sorry, that's my fault. I'm getting too distracted these days." 

Soobin barely looks up from papers scattered on the table. Yeonjun knows him well enough that he could see the slight twitch of his lips though, amused at the little situation in front of them. 

"I think you and I both know that being the president of the student council will eventually cause our lifelong friendship to crumble in the worst case scenario. We had a good run though." 

Yeonjun scoffs. "If you think that getting rid of me would be that easy, you're wrong." 

"I know. I feel like I have to move to the other side of the world just to get rid of you." 

"You know that I'd follow you all the way to the other side of the world too." 

"That's disgustingly sweet." Soobin offhandedly comments as Yeonjun laughs. It's lunch and yet, they're holed up in the student council office because Soobin couldn't let go of his paperwork and Yeonjun doesn't have the urge to go through the cafeteria, find an empty seat and stare longingly at the one boy who holds his heart. 

It's stupid how much he likes him. He likes him enough that it hurts to see him without having the courage to tell him about his feelings. It's enough that Yeonjun could feel the ache, force him to run away and bury any other remnants of his feelings for him because it's easier that way. 

"Why are you here though? Why aren't you with Beomgyu?" 

"He's… busy." Yeonjun quietly murmurs, feeling the temperature drop further in the office. "And we haven't really talked for a while." 

That's what makes Soobin glance up from reading the drafts of the school letters. The flicker of worry creases his features, a frown already drawing itself on his lips. "What? Did you two fight?" 

"No, it's just that—" _I feel like I'm losing him and I don't know why._ "We're not in the best place right now. That's all." 

"Hyung," Soobin quietly places the scattered papers into the folder before putting it aside. "You know that I can tell if you're hiding something from me. But I also can't force you to tell me whatever you've chosen to keep as a secret." 

"We've been friends forever and you only realized that now?" 

Soobin only half-smiles at his words. "You know that I'm here if you need me, right? Even if I sometimes reply three hours late, I'll always find the time to talk to you."

"I know," Yeonjun breathes out a little shakily and unevenly. Quiets down the riot that his heart had caused in the empty auditorium of his chest. "I appreciate that, Soobin. Thank you." 

As much as Yeonjun wants to say what he feels, he can already spell out the words that Soobin will say to him. 

_Tell him how you feel,_ Soobin will say. Soft and gentle because that's who Soobin is—he knows Yeonjun well enough that the older boy has a grip too tight on his pride. _There's always the possibility that Beomgyu may not like you back. But that's okay, at least you'll get an answer. You won't have to wonder about all the what ifs for the rest of your life._

And Yeonjun knows that he's right. 

But what Soobin doesn't know is this—it's not the possibility that scares him. It's the aftermath of the confession. 

Even if Beomgyu will turn him down gently, the awkwardness will linger. The thought of _Yeonjun hyung likes me_ will constantly be in Beomgyu's head that the space between them will slowly become bigger and bigger. 

Soon, no matter how far Yeonjun reaches, he won't be able to hold him back anymore. 

And maybe that's for the best. 

* * *

"Hyung, hey! Do you want to get lunch together—" 

"I can't, sorry. I have plans with Soobin already." 

"Yeonjun hyung! I bought two tickets to the premiere of—" 

"Is that tonight? I'm sorry but I can't go. I have so much work to do." 

"Hyung, are we okay?" 

The footsteps recede and all Yeonjun can hear is the crash of his heartbeats echoing through his body. Beomgyu is staring at him, a crestfallen expression on his face. As he reaches out, Yeonjun flinches the slightest and takes a step back. 

"Of course we are," He murmurs, his voice rough. "We're okay." 

There's something that shifts on Beomgyu's expression. He's only a step away from him and yet, it feels like Beomgyu is out of his grasp now. It feels like the string has slowly unraveled itself more and more, to the point that Yeonjun could see the end of it. 

It feels like he's only waiting for the end now. 

"Okay," Beomgyu takes a breath, sinking his teeth on his lower lip. Under the light of the afternoon as it chases after the dusk, Beomgyu feels like he's fading away so fast. "I trust you." 

That's all that he says before he takes a step back, turning away from him. His bag hangs loosely from his shoulder as he hurries away, head lowered. Yeonjun could only stare, watching as the light slowly dims until it's nothing but a fading spark. 

The end of the string is slipping from his fingers. 

He's afraid to ask what would happen once he finally lets go. 

* * *

The end doesn't come drastically. It's not feeling the world crumbling beneath his feet, hearing the chaos reign all around him. 

No, it comes quietly—like the little snowflake that slowly falls on Yeonjun's outstretched hand. It's seeing how the time changed from 5:59 P.M. to 6:00 P.M. It's nothing but a minute that Yeonjun could have ignored. 

But that's how the end comes: it chases after him across the street, fingers tugging on the back of his coat. The soft, breathy _hyung?_ that falls from his lips; the voice that makes the ache bury itself further in his chest. He sometimes forgets how hard it is to breathe whenever he feels how close he is. 

It takes a moment before Yeonjun quiets down the chaos in his chest. When he glances over his shoulder, Beomgyu is staring at him, lips pursed into a thin line. 

"Gyu-yah, I thought you went home already." 

"I was just finishing up something." He hesitates before he crosses the little distance left between them, gazing at him with rather hopeful eyes. "Can I ask you something?" 

"What is it?" 

There's one thing that Yeonjun loved about Beomgyu—he's unforgivingly loud and unafraid to be himself. He says every word as if they won't ever leave a cut on his cheek because of their rough edges. 

But right now, he seems smaller. More fragile than Yeonjun remembered him to be. Something tugs on Yeonjun's heartstrings when he catches sight of how Beomgyu quietly pulls on his coat, a little habit that he can't seem to let go. 

"Can we go somewhere together tonight?" 

_No,_ Yeonjun feels the rough edge of the word pressed against his cheek. It already stings, just at the thought of letting go of it. 

But Beomgyu is quicker to chase after his own words. "Please? It won't take a long time, I promise." 

There's another tug on the back of his coat as Beomgyu stares at him, anxiously awaiting for his answer. Yeonjun can't help but feel himself crumble once again, as if he didn't spend the last weeks rebuilding everything piece by piece. 

"Okay," Yeonjun breathes out, the familiar ache already tangling itself around his lungs. "Okay." 

He likes to think that he already let go of every little habit he ever had. But as he sees how Beomgyu's eyes light up under the darkening winter sky, he thinks that maybe some habits are worth holding on to. 

* * *

"What are we doing here?" 

Yeonjun asks out loud as he pauses, staring down as the ocean waves crash against the sand. It's nearly seven in the evening and Yeonjun can only guess that the temperature will drop even more as the night wears on. But that doesn't seem to stop Beomgyu—he's already kicking off his shoes and socks before he runs down the beach, his laughter colliding with the ocean waves. 

"What the hell are you doing, Beomgyu?!" 

"Come on! It's not that cold!" Beomgyu is halfway down the path now and yet, Yeonjun can hear his laugh—it's warm and bright. Years later, it still reminds Yeonjun of all the summers that they spent together.

"You idiot, god." Yeonjun doesn't have a choice. Beomgyu has him kicking off his own shoes and running through the cold sand, chasing after him. There's a laugh that spills from his ribs and for the first time in a while, Yeonjun doesn't feel the ache. 

He crashes right into Beomgyu, laughing loudly as they fall right onto the sand. The ocean barely reaches them—Yeonjun feels like he should have been afraid. But right now, it feels like a comfort. The crash of the waves, with Beomgyu's laughter softly fading through the night; he wants the world to stop for a moment. 

It's a little selfish but he wants this second to stretch itself for so long—let the world see how pretty Beomgyu is when he's happy. He'd do anything to make sure that he's happy, no matter what happens. 

"Hyung, get off. I have to get something." 

"No, I'm too tired." As if to punctuate his words, Yeonjun wraps an arm around Beomgyu's fragile frame, pulling him flushed against his body. Though Beomgyu rolls his eyes at his words, there's a faint blush on his cheeks as he hastily pushes him away. 

"I mean it. I have a surprise for you, hyung so get off unless you want to stay like this for the rest of the night." 

"Fine." 

He ignores the sudden ache in his chest when he shifts away, just to give enough space for Beomgyu to reach out and grasp his backpack that's already half buried in the sand. 

The sound of notebooks rustling echo in the space between them before Yeonjun hears the obvious clink of glass bottles against each other. He feels a rush of nervousness through his veins as he takes a quick glance at him, his heart rising to his throat when he finally realizes what Beomgyu is pulling out of his bag. 

"Are you insane?" He hisses, reaching out to pull the alcoholic bottle out of Beomgyu's grip. "We're underage. We can't drink yet." 

"You're always worried, hyung. Didn't I tell you to stop worrying about so many things?" 

The soju falls away from his fingers as Beomgyu swiftly opens the bottle with ease, as if he's been doing this for years. "I stole this from my brother's stash. I don't think he'll notice it though, since he bought so many crates—" 

"Have you been drinking, Beomgyu?" 

"What?" Beomgyu pauses, taken aback by the question. "Of course not. I told you, I'll have my first drink with you. We made that promise, remember?"

Yeonjun doesn't even have the time to formulate the words because Beomgyu is speaking again, voice a little smug. "Also, you never said that we have to be of age already once we have our first drink." 

"You're making a mistake." 

The words are nothing but a weak argument to a losing debate because the moment he feels the chilled bottle press against his palm, he feels his resolve crumble. Beomgyu is smiling at him—his dark hair falling over his starry eyes and his cheeks flushed under the moonlight. 

"One drink. Just one drink, I promise." 

Yeonjun hates how he can't say _no_ to Beomgyu. Not when he's so near to him and all he could think about is how pretty Beomgyu is with his cheeks painted with red tint and his hopeful eyes fixated on his best friend. 

With that, he sighs in defeat. "Okay, one drink but that's it. We can't have you waking up hungover tomorrow morning. Don't you have that exam?" 

"Wow, way to ruin the mood, hyung. Isn't tonight supposed to be about us and all kinds of distractions?" 

Yeonjun feels his heart rest in his throat. _What kind of distraction?_ The question is winded around the bottle of soju and Yeonjun can only think of how this night would go. He's not sure if he likes his thoughts right now. 

Ignoring all rationality and logic that's telling him to let go of everything and run away, he tips the bottle back and lets the alcohol burn through his throat. There's an ache lodged in the spaces of his ribs and for a moment, he feels like he's finally losing his grip on it.

"Why are you drinking so much already, hyung?" Beomgyu's cheeks are even more flushed now and he's laughing. "Slow down, okay? Or else, you'll be the one that I'll have to carry back home." 

He's pressed up against Yeonjun's side and for a second, they've forgotten the space between them. They don't remember how Yeonjun chased after Beomgyu and let go of him all at once because Beomgyu is just so bright and warm and god, it burned him to hold him so close. 

Right now, they're Yeonjun and Beomgyu—the best of friends. The ones who have their futures engraved by their feet. 

The ones who will never let go of each other, no matter what happens. 

"Hyung," Beomgyu murmurs, delicately resting his head on Yeonjun's shoulder. "Do you remember how we met?" 

"How can I forget? You asked me if you could teach me how to swim." 

"And look at us! Look at how far we come." 

Beomgyu stumbles right out of their little space on the sand, snatching up the bottle of soju and downing the drink. He coughs once, a fist against his chest before he bursts into giggles. 

"I'm just _so_ happy that we're friends, hyung." He falters, slowly sitting right in front of Yeonjun. There's a faraway look in his eyes and this time, the older boy can finally see everything—every hurt, every regret that Beomgyu had kept in the spaces of his own ribs. It's written on his face like a prayer that he must have murmured every night. 

"I don't want to lose what we have right now." When Beomgyu breathes out, it sounds shaky, broken. "I don't want to lose _you."_

Yeonjun can't help but feel himself crumble even more. All the weeks, months that he spent rebuilding every broken piece and filling in the gaps and cracks, they all collapsed into nothingness. 

All it took was Beomgyu with his starry eyes and pretty smile and watch everything fall away. 

"Oh, Beomgyu—" 

"Can you promise me?" Beomgyu reaches out and lets their fingers intertwine. It's cold and dark and yet, Yeonjun can see everything clearly—all he needs to do is gaze at the one boy who held his heart for so long. 

"Can you promise me that we won't lose each other? No matter what happens?" 

Yeonjun thinks that it's cruel to ruin Beomgyu's heart like a promise that's meant to be broken. 

But he's as naive as Beomgyu. As much as he knows that he's holding onto the end of the string already, he doesn't want to believe that this is the end. That they're coming to an end—they don't deserve that. 

They deserve a happy ending, don't they? 

"I promise." Yeonjun lets go of Beomgyu's hand, his arms wrapping themselves around the other boy's frame. He ignores the words puncturing through his chest, ruining his heart into a mess. All he could right now is silence the ache that made a home in his bones. 

"I promise you won't ever lose me. No matter what happens."

* * *

(It's ten in the evening. There's two empty bottles of soju sitting by Yeonjun's feet but he barely pays any attention to it. 

Beomgyu's head is placed on his lap with little snowflakes in his raven hair. Like a pretty constellation across the night sky. 

Yeonjun takes an uneasy breath as he stares out the ocean. It's quiet—the crash of the waves is nothing but a song that lulled him into a long stretch of his thoughts. Tracing every thought of his to the one boy who has fallen asleep on his lap. 

Yeonjun doesn't like the ocean. Long after the accident that filled his lungs with ocean water and left his body with an ache that will never be filled. 

But even then, he finds himself stumbling into a realization: Beomgyu reminds him of the ocean — a touch of a ghost on his skin as he stares out at the light reflecting on the water. Then all at once, he would feel the pull as he crashes deep under the waves, the fear colliding right against his body and all over him. He wants to breathe but he finds himself thinking _beomgyubeomgyubeomgyu_ as he slowly sinks.

Yeonjun can see the light though. He wouldn't have to drown anymore. He would have done anything just so he would no longer feel the ocean water fill his lungs. 

But now, he's not so sure. He's been drowning for so long that the ocean feels like a home to him now. 

Yeonjun is afraid that once he finally collapses onto the land, he would never come back to his home. He doesn't want to lose the ocean. 

He doesn't want to lose his home.)

* * *

"Hyung, do you want to go to the arcade with me today?" 

"I can't, sorry. I still have dance practice." 

"Hey, Yeonjun hyung! Let's go to that new café that opened down the street. I heard that it's amazing—" 

"Ah, today? Can't. I'm trying to finish my requirements. Maybe next time." 

"Hyung, I—" 

"I need to go," Yeonjun says, no longer looking at the one boy who once held his heart. When he does lift his gaze, Beomgyu is only looking at him with nothing but sadness in his eyes. 

He feels like there's nothing else to say and so, he says the same words that he's been letting go for the past months already. 

"I'm sorry." 

And the response is the same, as always. 

"It's okay, hyung. I understand." 

Except it's no longer the same. Beomgyu is no longer as hopeful as he used to be months ago. 

Yeonjun is eighteen and Beomgyu is turning seventeen soon. 

It's one of the many times that Yeonjun had broken his promise. Beomgyu broke his too and he figured that it's okay, it happens. 

Promises are meant to be broken at one point. And childhood best friends are never meant to be together for so long. 

One of them has to leave first. That's how the story always goes. 

But it's not Yeonjun who realizes this first. 

* * *

"Did you hear?" 

"What?" 

"Beomgyu is dating someone." 

Yeonjun pauses. His fingers fall still on the keyboard, the last sentence hanging on his final words. Waiting for an ending that Yeonjun will once again never find. 

"Is that so?" 

Soobin doesn't look up from his notes. There's only the sound of the pen dragging sharply against the pages of a notebook before his voice finally comes through. It's soft, gentle and yet, it's enough for Yeonjun to feel the ache reside in his chest. Once again making a home beneath the graveyard of bones in his chest. 

"Are you okay, hyung?" 

"I am," He answers a heartbeat too late but he doesn't mind it. 

"I'm happy for him." 

There's a theory that time moves differently for everyone. And right now, Yeonjun is living in the split second of seeing his world crash. He's waiting for it to fall to the ground and break into a thousand pieces, like how it's meant to be. 

But the end doesn't come. 

Not yet. 

* * *

"I heard that you're dating someone." 

"What?" The sound of the locker falling shut resonates in the quiet hallway before Beomgyu's flushed cheeks come into view. "Oh, I am. But the relationship is still new, you know—" 

"I'm not interrogating you, if that's what you're thinking." Yeonjun laughs, hoping to ease the little tension between them. Beomgyu visibly relaxes as he lets out a soft sigh of relief, leaning his back against the locker. 

"Sorry, I've been on edge for days because everyone keeps on asking me about it." 

"Does that mean that you won't answer even one question from me?" 

Beomgyu only lifts the corners of his lips into a smile, tilting his head. "You know that you're the only exception." 

It takes everything for Yeonjun to ignore how his heart rose to his throat. It beats out of sync with everything else—the erratic beating echoes through his body, with every interval of the seconds saying only a name that Yeonjun knows he will love for the rest of his life. 

"Are you happy?" 

Beomgyu doesn't seem to be expecting that question. A flicker of surprise crosses his face before eventually his expression softens. His eyes seem a little brighter under the glow of the fading afternoon light behind them and it hurts to know that Yeonjun is no longer the one who makes him happy like that. 

"I am, hyung. I promise." 

Yeonjun lets out a breath. Ignores the growing pain of the ache that lodged itself in his ribs. It's been there for so long but it's only now that Yeonjun felt how heavy it is. 

"That's good," He reaches out and gently ruffles Beomgyu's hair, smiling widely. "If they make you upset, you know where to find me, right?" 

"Trust me, you'd be the first one I'd call if anything happens." 

Yeonjun wants to say that he's okay with this—that a part of him is still in Beomgyu's life. That Beomgyu still hasn't let go of them. 

Because Yeonjun has long since let go of them. The shadow of the string's end digs against his palm and all Yeonjun could do now is dig his nails against his skin, enough to leave crescent marks on it. 

Enough to fool himself that they still haven't broken the promise they've made to each other. 

* * *

Yeonjun is eighteen when Beomgyu throws his arms around him, laughing and telling him, "Hyung, you finally graduated! I'm so proud of you!" 

"Top of the class, as always." Beomgyu boasts, his eyes brighter than ever. He looks so proud of his best friend and god, all the feelings that Yeonjun had been trying to suppress for so long came spilling past through the spaces of his fingers. 

He didn't know that it would hurt like this again. 

"Are you going to come over to our house? My mom misses you, you know." 

An apologetic expression crosses Beomgyu's face at the sound of Yeonjun's words, "I can't. I have a date tonight and we've been canceling and rescheduling it for the past weeks and tonight is the only free day—" 

"I get it, you have to be a good boyfriend." Yeonjun pulls him flushed against his body, an arm wrapped around his slightly smaller frame. He ignores the crash of his heart, like he had always done since the very beginning. 

"I understand, Gyu. But promise me that we'll hang out this summer, okay?" 

"Of course, I promise." Beomgyu lets go of those words so easily because he does keep every promise. Yeonjun almost envies him—he wishes that he can do the same. 

"I'll see you then, hyung. Congratulations again!" 

"Thanks, Gyu." 

With that, Yeonjun watches as Beomgyu turns on his heel and heads for the exit. The sight is becoming so familiar to him—it feels like he's looking at the ending of a film that he never learned to love, no matter how many times he watched it. He can say the same lines, describe the perfect film stills, say everything that went wrong. 

But even when he changes the script, alternate every word, the ending is set like that. 

All Yeonjun can do is silence the chaos within him. 

* * *

"Beomgyu, are you free today? I got some free tickets for this movie—" 

"Oh, I can't, hyung. I'm staying in for a date night. Maybe next time?" 

"Gyu-yah, do you want to head over to the arcade? I miss hanging out with you." 

"Hyung, you know that I miss you too. But I can't, I'm meeting the parents today. Next time, I swear."

"Beomgyu, I'm leaving for university tomorrow." Yeonjun feels stupid. He had too much to drink tonight and he's drunk, calling up his best friend at two in the morning. His back is pressed up against the bedroom door as he listens to the familiar pattern of his breathing. 

"I miss you, I really do." He doesn't know what else to say. He feels like he had already let go of all the words he ever wanted to say to him. 

"I guess, I just wanted to say that you can call me. Or text me, I don't know—I guess I just really miss talking to you. Just—" He pauses, trailing off after the last word. He doesn't know why he's doing this. But it's two in the morning and all Yeonjun knows now are bad decisions and burying every unsaid word beneath every look, every excuse that he ever said to him. 

"Just call me when you have the time, okay?" 

It feels like he has more to say but he ends the call anyway. 

Yeonjun is almost nineteen years old. 

Beomgyu's name is nothing but a shadow of all the what ifs in his life. 

All he needs to do is learn to accept that not every story will find its closure. One of them is meant to leave at one point. 

Yeonjun thinks that it's Beomgyu who's the first one to leave. But the shadow of the string's end digs against his skin, reminding him of what he did—he's the first one to let go. 

He's the first one to leave. That's how the story goes. 

**spring.**

"I feel like I haven't seen you in _so_ long." 

"Soobin, we saw each other two months ago," Yeonjun sighs as he pours the soju into the shot glasses, "I feel like you're only saying that because I still haven't paid you for the dinner we had together." 

"Your words, not mine." There's a glint of mischief in Soobin's eyes as he downs the shot smoothly, handing it back to the older boy. "But now that you brought it up…" 

"I'm already paying for the drinks tonight." 

Soobin's eyes lit up at the sound of those words. Yeonjun has to suppress the laugh that almost spilled from his lips as he watches Soobin hastily pull the glass out of Yeonjun's grip. "Thank you, hyung, you're so nice." 

"God," Yeonjun groans, pursing his lips. "Don't drink too much. I don't want to carry you back home again." 

"What's the use of drinking outside if we don't get drunk enough?" 

All Yeonjun can do is tip the bottle and let the alcohol pour into the glasses. The burn is smooth and familiar. Familiar in a way that Yeonjun remembers a memory when he was seventeen, cheeks flushed and laughter etched in the night sky. Bright eyes and an even brighter smile—all of it reminds him of a boy that he thinks about. 

It's the memory that makes something in him ache and think about the faintest shadows of all his what ifs. 

"Have you talked to anyone in our class?" 

Yeonjun tips his glass slightly, pressing his finger against the rim. The alcohol swirls around for a moment before he picks up the drink, downing it once again. He can see how Soobin eyes him for a moment, brows knitting together before he fills up the glass this time. 

"Not really. I think everyone's still the same—it's only been five years." 

_Five years, huh?_ Yeonjun stares down at the bottle that's only half full now. _It feels like it's been such a long time already._

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Have you not talked to anyone else from our old high school?" The sound of the alcohol pouring in Soobin's own glass accompanies the question that leaves Yeonjun staring at the rough patterns of the table.

"Like Beomgyu, maybe?" 

Yeonjun lets his eyes fall shut at that. There's something in his throat—every regret, every unsaid word that he wished he said. He thought that he already buried all of that beneath his bones but apparently, it's still there. 

Never ceasing to exist. 

It takes more than a heartbeat before Yeonjun answers, lips still curled into a half-hearted smile. "No, not yet."

"Oh, no wonder he asked me if I've seen you recently." Soobin shifts, reaching for his backpack that's cramped in the little space under their table. When he unzips it, he takes out a blue envelope, tossing it right in Yeonjun's direction. 

"He asked me to give it to you, in case we ever meet up again." 

"And what is this for?" 

Soobin shrugs rather nonchalantly, slipping his backpack under the table again. "His birthday is this Saturday already. I think he wants to see you again."

Yeonjun parts his lips but he only falls quiet. The crumpled blue envelope rests in his hands and the outline of his name on the back—it feels familiar. Every curve and line is so familiar to him. 

He thinks about the black little box with every letter written to him years ago. Every pretty word, every confession that he must have memorized by now. 

_I like you, Choi Yeonjun._

He thinks about the tiny blue envelope, crumpled up with a faint outline of his name at the back. He didn't read it—he only quietly slipped it in at the bottom of the box, locked at the corner of his closet in his apartment.  
  
Or at least, that's what he wanted to do. 

He takes out that box every now and then, reading every letter as if it's the first time he read it. It's always the same—until he reaches the last one. Folded inside a blue envelope, it's a letter that Yeonjun could have forgotten the words. 

Except he knows who wrote it. He knows the handwriting, he knows the words like it's something that he had said to someone else before. Or something that he had heard over and over again. 

_Hyung, I like you. I like you so much._

Years later and he still wonders if he deserves to read someone else's pretty words for him. 

"Oh, it's already spring?" Soobin gazes outside, a smile already drawing itself along the corners of his lips. "I guess it's nice to have a new beginning after the shitty year I had."

The older boy stares down at the familiar patterns drawn across the table. The alcohol has left him with his cheeks becoming flushed and his fingers gripping the glass too tightly. 

Sometimes, it's hard not to think about the one person that meant everything to him. Even when they were worlds apart, Yeonjun knows that he still loved him. 

He'll always love him. 

"A new beginning, huh?" Yeonjun takes a sip of his soju and stares outside at the cherry blossoms starting to bloom. This time, he can feel every ache settle in his chest—it's such a familiar feeling. Like memorizing the words to his old favorite song. 

Like the sound of Beomgyu's bright and warm laugh. 

A new beginning sounds nice. 

But a new beginning means that he has to let go of everything that ever happened to him—all the memories. All the people that he loved. 

The one boy that he loved the most. 

He's not sure if he wants to let go of that yet.

* * *

There's one thing that Yeonjun is good at. 

He's good at lying—every lie feels like a worn out prayer on his lips. He memorized every corner, every edge that no one notices how every time he speaks, there's a cut on his cheek as the words drag past his mouth. 

And so when Soobin asked if he had seen him since his graduation, it was easy to say no. 

It's nothing but a lie—he had seen him a year ago. 

When Yeonjun closes his eyes, he remembers him with bright eyes and his loud laugh that leaves him with an ache that he will never let go of. 

It hurts to think about how Beomgyu looked at him and asked, "We'll see each other again, right?" 

There was something unspoken, memories splitting apart in the space between them. There was another empty bottle of alcohol sitting by Yeonjun's feet and it reminded him of the story that Beomgyu won't remember this. 

He won't remember that Yeonjun came back for him, that he told him that he loved him for so long that everything hurts whenever he thinks about them. 

Beomgyu will wake up the next day with a headache and the morning light filtering through the light blue curtains hanging in his bedroom. It won't be Yeonjun who will kiss him good morning and smile at him—it'll be nothing but a shadow of their what ifs. 

Yeonjun knew better than to break Beomgyu's heart again. 

"We will," Their knees knocked together as Yeonjun shifted closer. "I promise." 

The glow from the television casted shadows on Beomgyu's features and for a moment, Yeonjun was breathless. This was the boy that he loved for so long—here was the boy who no longer had his heart wrapped around someone else's fist. 

Yeonjun could have loved him without a fault, without any guilt. 

And yet, he stood up and left the apartment without another glance. As he sat in the worn out seats in the last bus for that night, he wondered what would have happened if he kissed Beomgyu. 

A sigh only fell from his lips as he stared down at the lines of his palms. 

Years later and Beomgyu still haunts every what if he kept in his chest. 

He's always going to haunt all of Yeonjun's what ifs. 

* * *

And here he is, sitting under the red and blue flickering lights with Beomgyu's laughter accompanying every note, every word of the songs. He's still as pretty and carefree as ever, like how they were when he was almost thirteen and Beomgyu was eleven.

 _Christ, what is wrong with me?_ Yeonjun sinks into the cushion, ignores the ache that lingers in his chest. When Beomgyu meets his eyes across the room, he feels like his heart is going to burst right through his chest. 

Yeonjun thinks that he has silenced every ache, every hurt over the years but seeing Beomgyu tonight, everything comes spilling through the emptiness of his chest. Something about Beomgyu always made him wrap all his ghosts in his fist; he can feel his nails digging against his palms, leaving behind nothing but crescent moons. 

It's not supposed to hurt. But it does—it always will hurt, won't it? 

When Yeonjun stands from the patched up couch, he hears the murmurs of _where are you going, Yeonjun? You just got here._

"It's late, I'm sorry." As he glances over to Beomgyu, the lights seem to be fading around the corners. They're not as bright as before—and he can't stop looking at the haunted look in Beomgyu's dark eyes.

He doesn't even say another goodbye; it feels like the word is stolen from his lips. He only pushes past the little cluster of people, ignoring how his own heartbeat is resonating through his bones as he hurries out of the building. 

"Ah, fuck." 

Yeonjun doesn't know why he's running away again. He's standing on the sidewalk, seeing the bright city lights all around him and yet, he has never felt so lonely before. 

As selfish as it sounds, he wants the world to stop—he wants this second to stretch for a moment so he could collapse into himself. Wrap his fist around the ache that's been living inside of him for so many years already. 

Doesn't he deserve to live in peace now? 

"Hyung?" 

His breath hitches in his throat. When he takes a glimpse over his shoulder, he catches sight of Beomgyu standing a few feet from him. Him with flushed cheeks and his dark hair that he's been growing out for months now. 

Even though the city lights are so bright, Beomgyu's eyes are as dark as the night sky. The stars have long gone and Yeonjun wonders for a moment, when did he lose his own light?

"Hyung, why did you leave?" 

Yeonjun blinks. There's something wrapped around his throat and it hurts to breathe. 

In the end, he says, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at your party." 

"And you were supposed to be there too, but what are you doing instead?" 

_Running away, like how I've always done since the beginning._

Yeonjun lets the loose thread from his coat tangle itself around his finger. It digs painfully against his skin but he doesn't mind—it's a distraction that he'd rather take notice of, rather than to focus on Beomgyu staring at him, waiting for him. 

Always waiting for him. 

It's so easy to lie—it's what he's been doing for more than half of his life. But when he looks at Beomgyu, there's only a two word story that he knows he'll say for the rest of his life. 

"I'm sorry." 

He doesn't know what else to say now. It's ten in the evening and all Yeonjun wants to do is to go home and bury every secret that he ever kept to himself. 

"At least, let me take you home." 

Yeonjun wants to argue, tell him to go back to the party. But Beomgyu is already crossing the distance between them—as if out of habit, his fingers grasp Yeonjun's coat, pulling him back. 

Telling him to slow down, to stay for a moment because he's leaving him behind again. 

With that, he breathes out shakily and nods his head in resignation. He knows better than to fight in a losing battle. 

"Okay." 

* * *

Yeonjun doesn't know how they ended up here. 

A second ago, they were standing at the sidewalk with Beomgyu's fingers curled around the edge of Yeonjun's coat. 

Now, they're in Yeonjun's old childhood home, backs pressed against the edge of Yeonjun's bed. There's a bottle of half-empty wine between them—Yeonjun couldn't quite read the words, even when they turned on the light a moment ago, but he knows it's in French. 

"It looks fancy," Beomgyu giggles as he saunters into Yeonjun's bedroom, settling right beside him. "Your parents don't mind that I stole a bottle, right?" 

"I don't think they even care enough to see which ones are missing," Yeonjun reaches out, pulling the bottle out of Beomgyu's grip. "Give me that. You shouldn't be drinking so much, you know." 

"Tsk, says the one who got drunk the first time we had a drink." 

Yeonjun only laughs at the washed out memory that plays like a film in his head. He remembers how Beomgyu eventually woke up at around midnight and Yeonjun had fallen asleep amidst the sand sticking to his coat. He remembers how he let Beomgyu stay in his house because it's much closer. He even remembers how there were still tiny snowflakes and sand in Beomgyu's hair and clothes but they're both too exhausted to care and he was so warm in Yeonjun's arms that night. 

That was the last time they fell asleep in each other's arms. 

It's eleven in the evening now and yet, Yeonjun can still feel the warmth of the alcohol surging through his veins. Beomgyu takes a swig from the bottle, coughing with a fist against his chest before he dissolves into a fit of giggles. He tucks his head against Yeonjun's shoulder, fingers wrapped around the sleeve of his shirt. 

"Gyu?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I ask you something?" 

There's a soft hum that resonates in the tiny room before he murmurs, "What is it?" 

"Why did you leave your party?" Yeonjun's fingers circle around the neck of the bottle, tilting it slightly just to hear the sound of the alcohol swirling inside. It helps in silencing the constant echo of his heartbeat in the empty auditorium of his chest. 

It takes several seconds before Beomgyu finds his voice again, his fingers playing with the edge of Yeonjun's sleeve. His voice is so soft that Yeonjun almost stumbled through, just to catch onto his words. "I didn't want to lose you." 

"What?" 

Beomgyu sighs out of frustration, fingers tugging the bottle away from him before he takes another swig from the wine. The burn must be familiar to him now because he doesn't even hesitate in saying the words again. 

"I said, I didn't want to lose you." 

Yeonjun doesn't understand. "What do you mean? You're never going to lose me, Beomgyu." 

"Hyung, I did," His voice is quieter now but Yeonjun still hears the regret in his voice. "I've lost you so many times already. I don't know how many more losses I could take." 

It's so quiet, Yeonjun just realized it. The heartbeat echoes louder in his chest now. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Yeonjun knows the answer though. It's the same question that he asked to himself years ago. 

Beomgyu laughs, cheeks flushed as he lays the back of his head against the sheets. He stares at the little glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling—the same stars that he had delicately placed on a winter day years ago. 

Yeonjun was sick that day but he wanted to go stargazing. Him and his stubborn ass—Beomgyu loved him nevertheless. Enough that he stood on his tiptoes on top of Yeonjun's bed, stretching out to lay the stars along the ceiling. It's a little messy, barely resembles any constellation that they know of but Yeonjun loved it. 

(Yeonjun doesn't realize that Beomgyu would have done anything for him.)

"Oh, hyung," He slurs out, eyes falling shut as he sighs once again. "How do you tell someone that you feel like you've been left behind when they're right by your side?" 

Yeonjun stares at him, gazing the way the moonlight filters through the window. Even when he's half-drunk like this—cheeks flushed red, teeth sinking on his lower lip as his hair splays out on the sheets—he's still pretty. 

Beomgyu is always so pretty, isn't he? 

It takes a moment before Yeonjun speaks again but this time, he sounds a little more apologetic, more regretful than before. 

"I'm sorry." 

"You know that I forgave you years ago." Beomgyu leans in close, enough for Yeonjun to catch a glimpse of the stars in his eyes. "And I'd forgive you all over again." 

There's a pause before Beomgyu speaks again, passing the bottle a little clumsily in Yeonjun's hands. "Can I ask you something this time?" 

"What is it?" 

Beomgyu leans in close, the distance is nothing but a heartbeat between them. Under the glow of the moonlight, Yeonjun can't help but become mesmerized at the stars in his dark eyes. 

He would have missed the question if he wasn't listening so closely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me a year ago?" 

Yeonjun falls still at those words. The sound of the bottle crashing against the floor accompanies the only reply he could ever think of. 

"What?" 

That seems to be the wrong move; Beomgyu kicks the bottle away, letting the wine spill onto the hardwood floor. Neither of them seem to care—the question lingering is a far cry from every mundane worry they have right now. 

"Hyung, I don't understand you." Beomgyu scoffs. "Every time I start thinking that there's— _something_ between us, you pull away. You push me away and break me all over again and god, I know I said that I'd forgive you but I don't know how many more apologies from you I can carry." 

"I wasn't so drunk when you came over to my apartment a year ago. I still remember what you said," Beomgyu's fingers feel like a ghost on the back of Yeonjun's hand. "You said that you loved me. So why didn't you kiss me?" 

Yeonjun closes his eyes and exhales shakily. He still remembers? 

"I didn't know—" 

"Hyung, you _knew."_ Yeonjun quiets down. When Beomgyu speaks, there's a lingering hurt that's tied around the edge of his words. "You knew that I loved you the most. Even when the rest of the world knew how easy it was to love you, I always loved you the most."

It's a numbing feeling—to know that you've been chasing every what if, only to find out that they're the ones chasing after you this whole time. Yeonjun isn't carrying any what ifs in his bones; no, of course not. He's running away from it. 

He's been running away for who knows how long. 

(Is Beomgyu tired of chasing after him? Is he tired of everything?) 

It's almost midnight now and yet, Yeonjun is still stumbling through his words, tasting the wine on the tip of his tongue. 

"I thought you might forget it if I kissed you that night," The distance between them is almost nonexistent now. It's nothing but a quiet exhale—Yeonjun could have felt Beomgyu's heartbeat if he listened closely. 

"I was scared that if I told you how I felt and kissed you, I would have fallen for you all over again. I was scared that you would forget everything and we'll go back to doing what we do best—being best friends." 

Yeonjun laughs. It sounds bitter and hollow, like how he carved a space just for the shadow of Beomgyu's name in his chest. It's nothing but empty now; absolutely void of anything. 

"I don't want us to be friends anymore, Beomgyu. I want us to be more than that." 

Yeonjun doesn't wait for an answer. He's already leaning over, picking up the bottle of wine that had rolled by Beomgyu's feet. It's nearly empty now but he doesn't bother with it—he's too lightheaded to even taste another drop of wine. 

"If I told you that I won't ever forget it if you kissed me tonight," Beomgyu is so near now. The distance is nonexistent between them again and Yeonjun can feel his heart rising to his throat. Somehow, he feels like it's not the alcohol that left him flushed red in the cheeks. 

"Would you still be afraid?" 

Yeonjun can hear his heartbeat pulsating through the floorboards—it's so loud that he wonders if Beomgyu could hear it. If he could hear the collision of every tangled thought and word in Yeonjun's head right now. 

"I don't know." 

"Well," Beomgyu smiles at him. Bright and warm—like a warm spring day. "It looks like it's a risk that I'll have to take." 

It takes a heartbeat before everything falls apart—Yeonjun is taken away by everything all at once. Beomgyu with his starry eyes and bright laughter etched on his lips. Beomgyu with his fingers running down the curve of his jaw, down the slope of his neck, memorizing every little thing that Yeonjun is. 

The moment Beomgyu closed the distance and leaned in, Yeonjun felt the world crumble to pieces beneath his heel. 

And god, was it _amazing._

Beomgyu kisses him like he's chasing after summer—like it's something that he's been wanting for so long. He takes his time in savoring the feeling of Yeonjun's lips against his; it's slow and overwhelming all at once. But his patience is nothing but a worn out lullaby and he can feel how Beomgyu's body arched against his, desperate to feel more of his warmth. 

Yeonjun couldn't help but want more too. His hands find the curve of his waist, pulling him so close that he could have sworn that he could hear Beomgyu's heartbeat through his sweater. 

Beomgyu is so, _so_ warm against his body and he tastes like sweet wine on the tip of his tongue. His teeth graze along Beomgyu's lower lip and he hears the muffled whimper from the younger boy. "Hyung, hyung, I—" The rest of the words fall away when Yeonjun chases after his lips, kissing him again. His hands are on the curve of Beomgyu's waist with the other boy's fingers tugging on his strands, kissing him with his laughter wrapped around the corners of his mouth. 

Yeonjun's lungs feel like they're on fire—there's an ache inside of him that when he wrapped his fist around it, he was burnt. But Yeonjun loved the burn; it's what makes Beomgyu who he is. 

If kissing Beomgyu is a sin then Yeonjun would gladly make that mistake over and over again. 

"Hyung, I don't think we can be friends anymore." 

It's the first words that Beomgyu says when Yeonjun breaks away. It makes Yeonjun laugh—in the faint light from the moon and starry skies, he sees the blush that colored itself deeply in Beomgyu's cheeks. 

(He's so pretty. He always had been so pretty.)

"I know." 

"I'm serious. If you want to stay as friends then I'm sorry but every time I look at you from now on, I will only think about how much I want to kiss you." 

Yeonjun shrugs. "We can be best friends who occasionally make out." 

"Hyung!" 

"Kidding, kidding. Come here." 

Yeonjun shifts closer, his arms around Beomgyu's smaller frame. He feels so warm and Yeonjun is sure that their heartbeats have fallen and intertwined themselves into the same worn out lullaby that they have loved over the years. 

"We don't have to figure out everything right now," Yeonjun hums. "We have the rest of our lives to talk." 

Beomgyu falls still, his finger tangling around a loose thread on his sweater. When he asks, there's a sense of doubt and worry in his words. "Even tomorrow morning?" 

Yeonjun reaches out and lets their fingers intertwine. They fit so perfectly together—they really do. " _Especially_ tomorrow morning." 

Beomgyu doesn't say anything else. No, he only looks at him with eyes full of stars, leans in and kisses him with his wine stained lips. He tastes like laughter on a bright summer day—it's the only song that Yeonjun had loved since the beginning of it all. 

Yeonjun thinks that he's still like summer—one that had chased after him for years and one that he'll love until his next life. Beomgyu is endless; he might not have been written in the footnotes of the first chapter in Yeonjun's life but now, he's every word that Yeonjun had loved over the years. 

Love.

He feels like love. 

Yeonjun feels like he'll love him for so long. 

Beomgyu left him with a love that he can always come back to. No matter how many times he lets the thread slip from his fingers or let it break into the smallest of pieces, it doesn't matter.

Because Beomgyu is never going to let go. 

And neither will Yeonjun. 

**epilogue.**

There's wine staining the floorboards. The stars linger on the ceiling like a childhood nostalgia—they don't glow anymore but Yeonjun still thinks they're pretty. As pretty as the day when Beomgyu had clumsily placed every star, tracing a constellation that only they know.

It's morning now and everything in spring is as pretty as he could ever remember it. 

"You know, I have no idea why you stuck glow-in-the-dark stars at your apartment ceiling. It looks so different from the rest of your bedroom."

Yeonjun barely lifts the corners of his lips into a fond smile, eyeing the other boy standing by the doorframe. "It reminds me of you." 

"Of course you would say something like that." Beomgyu lets out a little sigh but in the flicker of the morning light through the window, Yeonjun sees the faint blush on the curve of his cheeks. Yeonjun can't stop himself from smiling so widely at the sight of it. 

"How do I look? I need to look my best when I meet your parents tonight." 

Beomgyu nervously smooths out the front of his jacket, hiding the way his fingers are shaking. Yeonjun stands up from the edge of the bed, crossing the little distance between them as he could fix the jacket comfortably.

"They've already seen you with your sunburnt cheeks, sand still in your hair." Yeonjun laughs. "But you look nice tonight, don't worry." 

"No, they met me as your childhood friend. They still haven't met me as your _boyfriend."_

It's the word that leaves Yeonjun's cheeks aching as he smiles widely. There's an ache in his chest—one that had burned in the spaces of his ribs. It's a familiar song now, one that he had grown to love even more over the years. 

"Doubt there's any difference though. I loved you the same since we were kids until now." 

"There _is_ a difference," Beomgyu sighs rather exasperatedly. "You never even told me what your impression of me was when I was still a kid." 

"Oh, you were annoying." Yeonjun lets out a laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close. "Like, really annoying. Though I think Soobin is convinced that I've been in love with you since the beginning, even the time when I said I hated you." 

Beomgyu doesn't even flinch at his words. Though he does roll his eyes at his little comment. 

"What about now though?" He murmurs, placing a hand right on his chest—he's sure that Beomgyu could have felt his heartbeat right through his own shirt. "What do you think of me now?" 

It takes half a heartbeat for Yeonjun to say the words. It almost feels like a memorized prayer now. 

"You're nice."

Nice in a way that he's unforgivingly loud and unafraid to be himself. He's nice in a way that his name lingers on anyone's lips and every syllable that stretches itself out sounds so pretty. He's nice in a way that Yeonjun knows that he did miss out on so many opportunities when he let Beomgyu pass by him before in the hallways without saying hello to him. 

He's nice in a way that Yeonjun couldn't say anything else—he's speechless with the words no longer lingering on his lips. 

An ache in his chest that he loved more than anything. 

"Only nice?" 

Beomgyu looks disappointed. Lips pursed, eyes downcast. Yeonjun leans in and kisses the frown away from his lips, laughing once again.

"You make me wish that it's summer again." 

"I could never get a proper answer from you, you know?" There's laughter in their kisses as Yeonjun holds him close, feels the curve and line of their bodies fitting so well together. 

"You're the loveliest person that I know, Beomgyu." Yeonjun pulls away, lets the space grow just a little between them. Beomgyu no longer feels like he's a thousand miles away—no, he's right here. Only a heartbeat away. 

"I think you're made to be loved by the world." 

There's a curve of a smile on Beomgyu's lips and the stars in his eyes. It's faint but it's still there—Beomgyu never looked as pretty as he did today. 

"Well, I don't need the world to love me," When Beomgyu reaches out to kiss him, Yeonjun could taste the summer on his lips. 

It's warm and bright. Like who Beomgyu is. 

"I already have you." 


End file.
